


Brush it Away

by cherry_blobby



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hair Brushing, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Leah (Mentioned), Multi, Panic Attacks, Willy (Mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25077361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry_blobby/pseuds/cherry_blobby
Summary: You can’t take it anymore... you need to get away. They say you shouldn’t run from your problems, but you go where fate takes you.Who knew fate had red hair?
Relationships: Elliott (Stardew Valley)/Reader, Elliott/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Elliott/Male Player (Stardew Valley), Elliott/Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Brush it Away

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! :)

As the sun settles over the hills, you stumble your way home. A day full of work has tired you out and left you drained of emotions. 

The mines today were sticky and humid- not at all making up for the lack of resources you found (maybe you should have watched the fortune channel this morning). Dragging your bag of rocks and squished Salmonberries home only added to the disappointment of today. 

As Summer is coming to an end, your crops are always at the back of your mind. You knew you shouldn’t have planted those melons so late; you knew you shouldn’t have spent a good chunk of gold on them. Hopefully, your blueberries will produce another batch before Fall, if you are to have any hope of making your gold back. 

Stress keeps building up, everything keeps going so wrong for you. Every night your mind is plagued with anxiety. The sweat on your back built up, palms claggy- it's as if you're drowning in your own failure. Every morning you’re weighed down to your bed, mind heavy- your body protecting you from your own fears. To say you’re struggling right now would be an understatement. 

You can’t bear to pass the entrance of your farm, embarrassment washing over you as soon as you see it. Orange embers lightly present to you the crops still growing- the crops that are too young to survive the season. The weeds around your farm are lurking around every corner, you’re struggling to control them with all this extra emotional luggage. 

Rather than dealing with your issues, you’d rather go to the mines. The dark caverns distract you from what's going on, the constant adrenaline is the only thing that keeps you going. Mining is helping you, distracting you- consuming you- but it's not as profitable. Without those profits, you can’t run the farm. Without the farm you know you’d have nothing. Without the farm you’re disrespecting your Grandpa's wishes- which makes your neglect of the farm more unbearable. 

Unbearable. It’s all unbearable. These crops are struggling because of you. These weeds are invading because of you. The farm is failing because of you. 

You can’t take it anymore.

You drop your bag by the stairs of your house. With the failures from the mines and your farm left behind, you sprint away from your home. Running away from your problems is the only thing you seem to be good at. You ran from Joja, now you’re running from your second chance at life.

Where are you even going? The trees around you pass in small blurs, the dirt from the path dancing at your shoes. You enter the town centre, no one will see you run, everyone is asleep in their homes. They don’t need to flee from theirs, unlike you. Your heels clop against the stone, feint street lights show you your way. You weave between the bushes littering the town, the further you go the more your legs hurt.  
This was probably a mistake. The fatigue that's consumed you lately certainly isn't going to be helped by this running, but that’s not enough to stop you. You run over the south bridge, beach in your sight. The town is behind you, your farm long out of sight. Sand frails behind you as your legs desperately run across the beach. The terrain is making it harder to run now, your legs become heavier than before, so you come to a sudden stop.

The tide dances away from the beach. You stare out into the open blue- why did you come here? Your breathing is unstable, your heart races… you can’t tell if that's from the running or the anxiety. Everything is too much. 

Wind lashes violently at you, the smell of seaweed filling your nose. The moon shines off the blue waves; it must be late. The moon is so high up, you should be asleep in the farmhouse… but no- you ran away… why did you even come here of all places? Your head hurts so much. You can't think of anything but the farm; you just ran and this is where you ended up. 

Alone again.

The difference is this time you can smell wet sand.

Far from the farm, what are you going to do now? The thought of going back is enough to make your stomach turn and your joints stiffen. Still… the thought of staying here all night is somewhat pathetic… you could, but something still tells you not to. Just think of what people would think if they were to find you here in the morning- what would you even say to them- that you couldn't keep up with your work and fled from it? 

There has to be somewhere you could go. Some place where you won't be judged and can't judge yourself. You know that wouldn't be possible, but there has to be somewhere. You look off to the port: you could go see Willy, maybe he’d let you in… no you don’t know him well enough- it would be uncomfortable. You look back to the entrance: you can’t go back into town, you don’t want to pass out in the streets. You look at your last option- a cabin. 

Elliott’s cabin.

He’d let you in- right? You and the man had recently become closer, but going to him at this time might put that on the line. It’s getting late, too late. Your eyes are becoming heavy and you hurt all over… you can’t pass out here. He’d understand, you hope, and there's always that chance he just won’t answer. 

You stumble towards his cabin, whether on not this was a bad idea fell numb in your thoughts. You've already made enough bad decisions lately why not add another to the list. You reach his door, holding out your fist. You could turn back now, you had no idea where you could turn to, but you still could. Running on your last speck of confidence, you lightly knock on the door.

Oh Yoba, that was a mistake. Why would you even do that? Of course you did another thing stupid. Your breathing increases, Yoba why… Why do you keep making these decisions? Without thinking, your hands reach to your shoulders. You clutch onto them like your life depends on it. He's not going to answer. You might as well support yourself. Hunching over, you can only think of your self inflicted pain.

The door opens.

You look up, swiftly, in shock. You're met with a look that matches your own. Elliott stands there, looking disheveled. Embarrassment fills you- you can't turn back now. 

“(Y/N)-”

You look at him again, his face changed. The look of confusion replaced by concern- pity- eyes wide and lips tight. He reaches out to you, “Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

You break down. 

You can't help it, you couldn't even stop it. Any remaining wall you had was just broken down in that moment. Suddenly, your vulnerability rushes through like a wave, leaving you exposed. Worst of all, someone is here to witness it now. You could have hidden all your problems, tackled them like you should have, instead you're bawling your eyes out in front of a man.

You're overwhelmed and exhausted. You know you're making a mockery of yourself right now, but you've passed the point of caring. You can only feel your lungs drown and body tremble; you feel like you're dying. Now Elliott has to witness it, the horror and mortification mixes to just make you tremble more.

A hand grabs your shoulder, to your shock. You let yourself raise your eyes slightly, letting yourself meet Elliott's face again. A trace of shock invades you as instead of being disgusted by you his face is, surprisingly, light. He squeezes your shoulder, “Oh, (Y/N)...”.

Why isn't he mortified by you? 

You set yourself so much for failure that even an ounce of solace was baffling.

“Let's get you inside”, Elliott mutters, “I cannot leave you out here like this…”

Elliott widens his door more, light escapes his cabin. He takes a step back, opening a clearing for you. You hesitate- you don't want to be a burden on him. He seems to notice this small step back, as he gives you a reassuring smile. “Please don't hesitate”, he reassures you, “You will be okay.”

You let yourself enter his cabin. If he wants you in here, you can't let him down anymore. Elliott softly closes the door behind you. Now it's just the both of you in his small cabin.

You can only stare at the wall, you can't bring yourself to do anything else. Oh Yoba, how Elliott must be pitying you right now. You try not to focus on your thoughts, but instead focus on the painting hung up. You trace the sides of the frame, in an attempt to calm yourself. When that doesn’t work, you try to actually focus on the painting itself. 

“Leah is talented, isn't she?”

Elliott comes up behind you. You tilt your head to look at him; he's looking closely at the painting. He notices you looking and smiles, “She actually hated it. She was so disappointed in the turn out, I couldn't bear to see it be thrown away.”

“It's very nice”, you let yourself mutter. Elliott chuckles slightly, “All of the paintings I own are by Leah, actually. Who really needs to spend gold on decorations when you have such a talented friend like her?”

If only you could have been as dedicated as Leah… A small sigh escapes from you and you can't help your shoulders slumping. Elliott seems to notice this, as he huffs. 

“Everyone has different ways of making art”, he states, “I'm positive that yours is as perfect as hers!” You can't help but smile slightly at his small burst of passion, “I’m not on about art, Elliott.” He raises his eyebrow, “Then what, (Y/N), are you referring to?”

“It”, you whisper, “doesn't really matter-” You suddenly feel guilty- you've said too much. You don't want him to pity you any more. He shouldn't have to deal with this right now, you should have dealt with this on your own. Softly, an arm is placed on your shoulder again. Slowly, you bring yourself to look at the man. He softly looks at you, “You can tell me, (Y/N). I'll gladly listen to you.” 

You drop your head, shame showing. Slowly, you stammer, “This is all my fault.” Elliott’s eyes scrunch in confusion, “Whatever this is, It's not your fault. You should not blame yourself for anything.” Why is he being so nice to you? This is completely your fault. You let yourself chuckle, “Oh but it is my fault. It is completely my fault..” 

“Tell me then, (Y/N)”, Elliott questions, “How is this all your fault?”

How is this all your fault?

If only you could tell him. You're pathetic really, Elliott is reaching out to you, but he doesn't know he's wasting all his sympathy on you. In your attempt to distance him- protect him- he only wants more answers from you. You can’t answer him, you just can’t...

Your hands drag your face. Your eyes water. Your breathing increases. Your body tenses. Your heart drops. 

A panic attack.

Your mind jives you, prodding and poking. It's all built up and gone over. You can't stop this, you deserve this. This is punishment for your actions. You thought you could pull yourself out of one earlier, but this just confirms you deserve one. Your body feels as if it's shutting down.

“(Y/N)!”

Elliott races in front of you. He sees you now, all panicked and in pain. His face shows concern and fear- it shouldn't. He grasps your shoulders- let go. “(Y/N)?!”- shut up.

“Oh Yoba, what have I done?”

Elliott seems to hesitate in thought for a moment, his own panic trying to take hold of him. “(Y/N)”, he says, “I- you should rest. Lay down for a moment.” He lightly guided you away from your spot, it must be hard for him as your body is hardly cooperating with movement. He treats you with care, never trying to rush you over to the bed, taking his time. 

You sit on the red covers, eventually. “Sit up on the bed”, he instructs you, “It will aid your breathing.” You drag your legs on the bed, edging back to rest on the headboard. You’re still shaking and your breathing remains uncontrollable. Elliott sits himself next to you. 

“Okay (Y/N)”, he says, “Please follow my instructions.” You try to nod your head in slight confirmation. He nods back, “Breathe in through your nose.” You breathe in through your nose. “Now breathe deeply out through your mouth,” he motions. You take a shaky breath out through your mouth. Elliott smiles slightly, “Great, just continue doing that. Trust me, it helps.”

You continue to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. The stimulation distracts you from your panic enough for you to stop shaking. All through this, Elliott watches you quietly. 

“Are you calm enough now?”

You look at him, “I think so…”

Elliott breathes in relief, “Oh that’s splendid!”

You can’t help but smile slightly at his reaction. Elliott seemingly notices this, as he gives a light smile back. Guilt is still there, he shouldn’t have to be dealing with you right now, but now you realise hiding everything from him now won’t help. You look down at your chest, “T-thank you Elliott”

“There’s no reason to thank me, (Y/N),” Elliott replies, “I just want to help you. I can’t stand seeing you like this” 

You blush slightly, “I’m just glad you knew what to do…” He smiles back at you, “I’ve had to use this technique in the past. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. When it does work, it can help immensely.”

“When did you have to use it?”

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who gets like this sometimes,” Elliott looks down, “Things sometimes get hard for myself.”

You smile at Elliott in empathy. It’s sometimes nice to know other people can get like this sometimes.

“Are you feeling any better now, (Y/N)?”

“I’ve stopped shaking as much,” you explain, “Thank you. You really helped.” Elliott smiles, “It’s fine, (Y/N). You have no need to thank me again.”

You’re still uncomfortable. You’re still not feeling normal. It's a bit embarrassing that you couldn't help yourself. Elliott places his hand on your leg, “Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“I'm not really sure”, you answer. Elliott looks at you, “I can do whatever you want me to do, if it makes you feel any better.” 

You laugh to yourself, “You can take over the farm for a bit, if you want.” Elliott laughs, “If you really want me too, I will. Though I will not be responsible for any damage I may accidentally cause.”

“Seriously, (Y/N), is there anything that makes you feel better.”

You try to think. In the past, you did have a couple of coping mechanisms, but most don’t work anymore. You sigh, “The only one I can think of I used to do with my mum, but obviously she isn’t exactly around.” Elliott looks like he’s thinking, “What would she do?”

“Well, it’s more what she would let me do”, you explain, “She used to make us both a cup of tea and then she would grab a hair brush. She would let me sit and brush her hair. Whilst she let me do that, she got me to tell her what was wrong.”

Elliott smiles, “That sounds really sweet, (Y/N).” You smile back, “I wish she was here sometimes. She’d make a lot of things much easier.”

Elliott raises a hand to his chin, he seems to be in thought. You worry that, maybe, he could be sat there judging what you just told him. 

“Maybe you could do that to me instead?”

Your head snaps towards Elliott in shock. He flushes, “Well, you don’t have to, it was just a foolish suggestion sorry.” You smile at him, he’s cute when he blushes.

“No that would be great, Elliott.”

Elliott almost beams at you, “Splendid! I’ll get my brush…” He practically jumps off his bed. The action contrasts how he normally acts, it’s quite amusing to you. You watch him open a drawer in his desk and try to fish out the brush. He pulls it out, a look of pride on his face. You can’t help but chuckle at him, he gives you an offended side glance. 

Elliott walks back over and hands you the brush. He sits on the edge of his bed and you shuffle behind him.

“Tell me if it’s uncomfortable”, you tell Elliott.

Carefully, you pull the brush through his red hair. It goes through easily, but you're not surprised about that as he takes a lot of pride in his hair. 

“I’m sorry there is no tea”, Elliott sighs, “I have to cut corners in some places, I have not got a particularly sustainable career.”

“Don’t worry about it”, you assure him, “This is fine.”

“Hopefully I can pull myself together and finish this book”, he mutters, “This is not about me though, now will you tell me what’s on your mind, (Y/N)?”

You twirl a strand of Elliott’s hair around the brush, “I don’t need to, this is good enough.” If it wasn’t for the fact you were holding his hair, Elliott probably would have dropped his head in frustration, “After all of this time, you still want to keep it all in. You can tell me anything, (Y/N), I promise I’ll listen.”

You feel guilty again, Elliott keeps trying to reach out to you and you keep pushing him away. You sigh, “I’m sorry. It’s just hard to open up.”

“I know it’s hard (Y/N)”, Elliott states, “You can be open with me.”

“It’s all my fault, Elliott. It’s stupid and I could have avoided it all.”

“You are not stupid, (Y/N)”, Elliott mutters, “It’s just a mistake, we make lots of them.”

You slowly bring the brush down through his hair, as you do this you let out a long breath, “The farm is just stressing me out a lot.”

Elliott flinches, you jump a bit in shock. 

“No, sorry (Y/N), you just caught a knot!”, Elliott quickly stammers, “But, please continue.”

“I don’t think I’m doing a good enough job”, you tell Elliott, “I feel like, like, I should have made a lot more progress. I should have gotten more used to life here now! But… I’m still struggling…”

You clutch the brush harder, you feel ashamed that Elliott has to hear all of this. You let out a nervous laugh, “I’m sorry. I'm just-” Elliott cuts you off, suddenly, “Why must you apologise so much? Especially when you have nothing to apologise about?” 

He's right about that, you guess, you do apologise a lot.

“Don't fret (Y/N), I understand what you're going through. I moved to Pelican Town in hope I'd be more focused. As much as I push myself I just don't seem to make any progress”, Elliott laughs, “Now I must apologise (Y/N), I'm making this about me when it's about you.”

“No it's okay”, you tell Elliott, “It helps to know you don't feel alone.”

You continue to brush through Elliott’s hair. Much like your mother’s, his hair is soft and long. The feeling provides you with a small bit of comfort. Unlike her’s, the colour is much more captivating.

“I understand this is rich coming from me, (Y/N), but things will get better”, Elliott softly says, “You can't expect everything to be perfect.”

“I just feel like”, you stammer, “Like I'm disappointing people.”

“Who could you be disappointing?”

“The townsfolk… They all were so excited for my arrival. They were excited for me to bring life back to the farm- if anything I've killed it more”, you hiccup, “And… Grandpa.”

“Oh (Y/N)...”

“He put so much trust in me, but I think I just threw that all away. He left me his pride and I didn't respect it as I should. I'm a disappointment. I don't deserve any of this, I'm so stupid-”

“I don't believe any of that.”

You nearly drop the brush in anger. After all of this, how could he say that? You are a disappointment, it's an insult that Elliott keeps trying to dismiss that fact. He’s just trying to be nice to you, but you don’t need to be babied by him… that’s just insulting.

“I know you do not believe me (Y/N), but I am of the belief he would be so proud of you”, Elliott says, softly.

“But- why?”

“You didn't have to come here. You took on a new challenge, a new path, in your Grandpa’s wishes. You're trying your hardest on that farm and truthfully I don't think you give yourself enough credit for that.”

It's hard to believe Elliott. You sigh, “I want to believe you Elliott, but knowing my grandpa he wouldn't have been satisfied.”

Elliott turns his head to look at you, the brush flying away with the motion. He looks angry, frustrated at- you? You feel your heart drop- you've definitely annoyed him too much. His eyes pierce your own, telling you that you messed up.

“Respectfully, (Y/N), if your grandpa is disappointed in you now, after all that you've put into that farm, I don't think you should completely disregard his supposed thoughts.”

What?

“Your worth isn't dependent on your Grandpa. It isn't dependent on anyone but you. I understand that's hard to comprehend, Yoba it took me a while to understand that myself, but you need to start believing in yourself.”

“Elliott-”

“(Y/N), you're worth so much more than the mistakes you may have made. I really hope you'll come to understand that”, Elliott goes red, “I believe in you. It hurts seeing you not believe in yourself. I can't force you to see your own worth, but I'll help you in any way I can.”

You can't help it. You can't stop it. You cry once again. 

Elliott's hands rush to your shoulders, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I didn't mean to be so harsh-” Baffling Elliott, you laugh a little,”No it's okay, you weren't too harsh.” He looks at you deeply again, his arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. Shock fills you, followed by warmth. You let your arms hold him.

“Thank you Elliott.”

“Why are you thanking me?”, Elliott questions, “I made you cry-”

“You're as big of an idiot as me”, you giggle, “I'm not crying because you hurt me, I'm crying because- well it's hard to explain. But I- I- thank you.”

“You're struggling to put it into words?”, Elliott asks, eyebrow raised. You smile at him, nodding. He smiles softly, “I understand what you mean. Words can be funny sometimes…”

“Thank you, I can't say that enough”, you tell him, “It helps knowing someone out there believes in you. I'm just sorry I didn't listen to you sooner…”

“Emotions are unexplainable. Sometimes you can not comprehend them”, Elliott explains, “I'll always believe in you, (Y/N). I'll always be here for you.”

You squeeze Elliott again. You're so grateful that you came to him, you're so grateful he let you in. He returns the embrace, dipping his head into the nook of his shoulder. If words can't show how grateful you are, maybe your actions will. 

You both sit there for a while; time passes by but you don't care. Elliott mumbles in your ear, “Do you want me to stop?” You sigh, “No, this is nice.” He places his head on your shoulder again, comfortable in each other's warmth.

“I'm grateful I came here.”

“I'm grateful I could help.”

You giggle, “I'm not grateful that you flung the brush across the cabin.”

Elliott’s head shoots up. He looks at you in shock, “Oh Yoba, (Y/N). I'm so sorry!” He jumps off of the bed to run towards the brush; you sit laughing at him. As soon as he grabs the brush, he scrambles back to you. You smile at him, “For a man as pompous as you, you certainly break character sometimes.”

Flabbergasted, Elliott can only stutter at you. You laugh at his reaction, this man might just kill you… He huffs, “To think you have the nerve to compare me to a crime of literature! I think you've spent too much time with me…”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Elliott hands you the brush with a sigh, “Well, no. People should strive to be more like me.” You giggle at him- you receive a stink eye back. “You're too dramatic for me, Elliott”, you tell him, “But I like that about you.”

Elliott sighs in return, smiling, “I can't say I'm fond of your cruelty.”

Elliott sits on his bed again. You carefully bring his hair behind him again. As you brush through his hair, you can only think of how happy you feel. How happy you feel with him.

“I'm glad we met, Elliott.”

You can hear a breath leave his mouth, you know he's smiling, “I'm glad we met too, (Y/N).”

As you brush his hair, your mind feels at rest. 

‘ _I could get used to this_ ’, you think with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I take requests on my Tumblr, if you want me to write anything!
> 
> Tumblr: swagdewvalley.tumblr.com


End file.
